Missionaries in a Foreign Field
by HarryPotterCat
Summary: Hercule Poirot and Luna Lovegood arrive at CCF to solve a nasty series of murders. But when more and more Cadets start dying, Poirot realises there's only one thing left to do. Er, and that's not to kill himself, either.
1. The Little Things Give You Away

_"Yeah, what you critics said would never happen.  
_  
_We dedicate this album to anybody people said couldn't make it._

_To the fans that held us down till everybody came around._  
_  
Welcome, it's here."_ - Jay-Z/Fall Out Boy

* * *

"Luck," Christopher Kennedy read aloud, brandishing a battered Agatha Christie novel, "goes in cycles. It is certainly useless to fight against it."

A few Cadets yawned pointedly.

"Which is why," he continued, throwing an irritated glance to a boy who was freely talking with his companion, "we have this beautiful establishment. The Combined Cadet Force was founded around ..."

A small commotion by the door thankfully stopped him from completing his tedious speech. In walked a peculiar man, round in figure and sporting a spectacular black moustache. His dark eyes glistened slyly.

"Bonsoir," the man began, bowing to the teenagers. "I am the great –"

"I know who you are!" An obnoxious blonde boy called Will Carter swung round on his chair to get a better view of the man. "_You're_ Hercule Poirot! That French dude!"

"_Belgian_," Hercule Poirot muttered, glaring venomously. "Yes, I am. I am the famed Poirot, and after receiving –," he coughed, "_Valuable information_, I made it my duty to come down here."

"What '_valuable information_'? And why did you come _here_?" Will raised his eyebrows, nudging his friend Richard, who was sniggering rudely.

The man named Poirot straightened up to his full height and thrust his nose into the air superiorly.

"We'll get to that later. _Mon ami_, have you met my – ah, companion? She's a rather charming girl, though a bit ... _odd_." It was clear that Hercule Poirot despised of anything out of the ordinary, which was a bit peculiar considering he was a top-class murder detective. "_Mademoiselle_!" he called, gesturing spectacularly to the door from which he had entered.

A girl no older than the Cadets walked in, gazing serenely at the ceiling. Her dirty-blond hair fell to her waist; her ears sported vivid radishes and around her neck hung a necklace out of bottle corks.

Yes, people. It's Luna Lovegood.

"Oh, hello." She waved slightly, now staring at the Cadets before her. Her gaze rested on Christopher. "_You're _Christopher Kennedy!"

Christopher blushed slightly as Luna smiled at him, her pale eyes widening excitedly.

"I've heard all about you!" She smiled, looking madder than ever, and from her pocket brought out the same Agatha Christie book Chris Kennedy was reading from. "'_Peril At End House_'! One of my favourites, but I must say it was quite obvious who the murderer was ..."

Poirot muttered something to himself, casting suspicious eyes around the room. His gaze finally rested on a group of girls who were smirking quite conspicuously at Luna Lovegood.

"_Enfants._" His quiet voice was edged with warning.

"You know, you still haven't told us what this '_valuable information´ _is_,_" Will Carter reminded Poirot, swinging back on his chair casually.

"_Mademoiselle_?" Poirot gestured for Luna Lovegood. She nodded, smiling calmly at Christopher Kennedy and began to speak.

* * *

"So it's all very simple, really," Luna finished, oblivious to the puzzled glances of the teenagers. Poirot coughed and murmured an apology to Christopher Kennedy.

"_Mademoiselle_." He raised his eyebrows at Luna, whose version of events had consisted of an onion, a mandrake and a suspicious looking cat. "That is _not _why we are here. No, to be perfectly frank, I have uncovered a plot." He paused for dramatic effect. Will Carter snorted in dire amusement. "_Mes amis_, it is a plot I say! A plot of ... _murder_. Yes, that is quite correct, I have discovered that most terrible things are going to be unleashed on Calday's Combined ... Cadet ... _Force_."

The girl nearest Luna thrust her hand into the air excitedly.

"When you say _murder_ ..."

"I mean _murder_. _Enfants, _I want you to have your wits about you. Me and – er, _Mademoiselle _Lovegood will be working to protect you."

"That's all very well," a boy called Michael Szuplewski said pompously, "but who's killing people? You can't just _waltz _in here and expect us to believe – "

"Oh for crying out loud," the person nearest Michael, who was ironically called Mike Walsh, rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "The fact is that they haven't _found _who's killing people yet. Neither have there been any ... uh ... deaths. I suppose you have a good idea of who's gonna die and who's murdering people, right?"

Poirot twirled his moustache nervously.

"Well, like you said, _mon ami_, there haven't been any deaths. We just got ahold of a most terrible plot. So, _mes amis_, be _on your guard_."


	2. Yes, This Fear's Got A Hold On Me

"What a load of bull," Gregory Knight glared at the concrete as he and Abbie Hughes walked up to the parade square together. "Seriously."

Abbie rolled her eyes. This kind of talk was typical of Greg.

"I mean, like _anyone _here's going to go round _killing _people."

"You said yourself," Abbie adjusted her headband nervously, "that you'd do away with at least one of the others."

Greg laughed humourlessly as they reached the gates.

"Joke, Abbie, joke. Hey – what's going on?"

A girl called Vanessa hurried up to them excitedly.

"We're abseiling," she said, pointing up to the top of Calday.

"_Abseiling_?!"

"Yep. Down the side of the school."

Hercule Poirot the detective was walking up to them too, Luna skipping along in his wake.

"_Enfants_, this was my idea. Yes, M. Knight, my idea. You see, _mes amis_, my little companion here, _mademoiselle_," Poirot held out a hand and Luna Lovegood curtseyed, smiling serenely, "had the idea that if you climb _all the way up to the roof of the school_ ... it would make quite a good place to pursue such English sports."

Greg raised his eyebrows knowingly.

* * *

"_Enfants_!" Hercule Poirot motioned for the Cadets to gather round him. They were all standing right at the very top of Calday school, but Christopher Kennedy had been replaced by Sergeant Alex Roberts.

"Now, this is a very dangerous activity, _mes amis_, but do we have a willing volunteer to go first?"

No one spoke, a few people even shuffled backwards slightly.

Alex Roberts coughed and adjusted his collar nervously.

"I'll do it," he murmured, half hoping Poirot wouldn't hear him.

"_Bravo_!" Hercule cried, throwing his arm out so quickly he nearly knocked Polly Pattinson over. She glared at him, muttering to her friend Rachel furiously.

Alex paced extremely slowly towards the rim of the roof, peering over the edge anxiously. It was quite a big drop.

"On second thoughts – "

"_Non, non_! You have willingly volunteered, _oui_? What are you, a _coward_?"

"Well, when you put it like that –"

"Off you go!" And with that, Poirot literally _pushed _Alex right over the edge, sending him to his eternal doom.

Okay, only kidding. But he did push Alex. Hard.

"_Au revoir_!" Luna Lovegood called cheerily in a horribly thick French accent, as Alex plummeted towards the advancing ground. The Cadets were silent, not even daring to breathe.

And then ... it stopped. Alex was suspended in mid-air, his nose grazing the concrete. He let out a cry of joy, before Poirot began hoisting him back up again.

"Now, _mes amis_, that was not abseiling. _Non_, I just wanted to test M. Roberts. _Je suis trés désolée, monsieur_."

"So ..." Luna sighed, "who's next?"

Mike Walsh hid behind his hand, Michael Szuplewski coughed nervously and Greg Knight ran for cover behind Polly Pattinson.

"You!" Luna Lovegood cried, in a very bad imitation of Hercule, pointing at Polly dramatically.

" M-me?" Polly squeaked, fiddling with her blonde hair uneasily.

"Oh yes ... I've never abseiled myself, but apparently it is number eight on the list of most dangerous sports ... but I do hope nothing goes wrong, it would be simply ghastly if you died, wouldn't it _Monsieur_?" Luna widened her pale eyes and stared at Poirot, who mumbled something but attached the harness to Polly Pattinson.


	3. A Stitch Away From Making It

"Well _that _didn't go too well." Luna Lovegood raised an eyebrow calmly, but the Cadets were saved from answering by the arrival of Christopher Kennedy.

"What've I missed?" he panted, clutching a stitch in his side.

"_Monsieur_, I think you'd better see this," Hercule Poirot stepped aside so Christopher Kennedy could have a better view of what everyone was staring at. Abbie Hughes had turned startlingly pale; Greg Knight was clearly trying not to cry; and all in all the general assemblage of Cadets looked absolutely horrified.

"Is she –"

Poirot nodded gravely as Christopher Kennedy looked down at the lacklustre corpse of Polly Pattinson.

"But _how_, I mean, why _Polly_?"

"I'm afraid," Mike Walsh said, his voice quivering, "that's what we'd all like to know."

"Ah, _oui_. One would, wouldn't they? _Perhaps _..." Hercule Poirot frowned and rubbed his temple furiously.

"Are the – _police_ coming?" Christopher was doing his best to remain calm, but his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

"Ah, _non_. _Mademoiselle_, please go and inform that man in charge," Poirot said at once to Luna, who nodded and swiftly walked away.

"None of you are to move, _enfants_, because this is an official crime scene. But I can assure you that I will give this case my _upmost _attention."

"Isn't it possible, _monsieur_," Michael Szuplewski sneered despite himself. "That it was an accident?"

"_Non_!" Hercule Poirot roared, frightening the lives out of the Cadets. "_Monsieur_," Poirot's beady eyes glistened furiously, "it was _not an accident_. I saw the entire display! I saw _myself_ who cut Polly's rope –"

"It was cut?" Polly's friend Rachel interrupted, her eyes red.

"_Oui_! The murderer is standing among us _right now_!"

"Well, that's fairly preposterous. If you know who '_murdered_' Polly, then it would be in your best interests to tell us before someone else gets killed!" Michael Szuplewski's expression was crazed. Poirot stared at him.

"You think, _monsieur_, that there will be another murder?" Poirot's voice turned dangerously quiet.

"I _know_ there'll be another murder, you are _Poirot _after all."

Everyone stared at Michael Szuplewski.

"What?!" he cried, throwing his hands up in surrender. "For starters, don't you think it's just _slightly _odd that two characters from fictional books waltz in here and murders just _happen _to begin?"

"_Murders_?" Vanessa wrinkled her nose. "Only one person's been killed, right?"

"_Précisément_. M. Szuplewski, you're acting very suspicious. _Mademoiselle _will see to that," Poirot narrowed his eyes at Michael as Luna Lovegood came skipping into view.

"Who, _her_?" Michael laughed humourlessly. "Loony Lovegood? Yeah, _right_."

"Is there a problem ...? Oh, hello!" Luna waved at Christopher Kennedy happily. Immediately he blushed.

* * *

After the Polly Pattinson abseiling catastrophe, a unanimous vote was passed that the Cadets remained inside for the rest of the day.

"So," Christopher Kennedy held his Agatha Christie book in the air. "Poirot entered the room to find ... _her body lying by the fireplace_."

Rachel and Vanessa both burst into hysterical tears.

"Stop it!" Abbie Hughes cried, wiping her eyes. "It's bad enough that _Polly_ died, but I doubt any of us want to hear a _murder story_!"

Luna Lovegood raised her hand.

"I do," she said, raising an eyebrow at the Cadets. "Poirot is my absolute _favourite _Muggle character ..."

"Yeah, well," Mike Walsh glared at her. "That may be, but he's none of _ours_."

Luna sighed heavily, rolling her eyes in despair.

"Honestly, how can you like Poirot at a time like _this_?" Abbie Hughes asked incredulously, gesturing around her at the depressed Cadets.

"Oh you know …" Luna shrugged distantly and twirled her dirty-blonde hair around her finger.

"No, we _don't_," George Clark muttered under his breath, glaring at her.


	4. Tied Together With A Smile

"By the left! Quick ... march!"

"This is _so _boring," Sarah Craine muttered as the Cadets performed Drill in the parade square.

Michael Szuplewski nodded wearily; not even he was up to parading round outside on a cold, rainy evening.

"And ... that's good! Okay, you can all go inside." Alex Roberts instructed, protecting his ears from the whoops of joy coming from the Cadets.

Abbie Hughes hung back, not particularly wanting to walk with Luna Lovegood. A girl called Lorraine waited with her.

"So, this murder business, eh?" Lorraine said, as the two girls finally began walking towards the building. "Rather odd."

Abbie Hughes mumbled something in reply, staring at the ground.

"I mean, you'd think they'd have found out who killed Polly by now, wouldn't you?" Lorraine was absolutely oblivious to Abbie's discomfort as she continued blabbering. "_I _hope it's Will Carter. Like, you can't get much more obvious than _him._"

"Yes you can," Abbie argued.

"No, you can't. Dreadful business with Polly though, it's really weird with her _dead_, isn't it?"

"Shut up!" Abbie shouted, surprising even herself. They had reached the entrance to the school building now, and Lorraine paused with her hand waiting to open the door.

"Excuse me?" Lorraine let her hand go.

"You heard me. Stop talking about _Polly_ like that! Have a bit of _sympathy_!"

"What? But ... I, er, was only sayi –"

"Well don't, _okay_?" Abbie Hughes pushed past Lorraine to go inside, leaving Lorraine Bhebhe standing in the rain, pondering over what had just happened.

* * *

The next time any of the Cadets saw Lorraine Bhebhe, she was lying on the concrete steps face down in a scarlet pool of blood.

She was dead.


	5. You're the Same Old Brand New You

"Ah ..." Poirot said, bending over Lorraine's corpse. "This puts a different ... how you say? ... _slant _on things."

Will Carter stared at him. After Lorraine Bhebhe had been discovered by Christopher Kennedy, Abbie Hughes had gone into such hysterics she was given drugs to calm her down.

"A _slant_?" Mike Walsh said, clearly disgusted. "Two people are _dead_, and you call it a '_slant_'?"

"_Enfant_, I can understand your distress –"

"No you can't!" Sarah Craine cut in, scowling at the Belgian detective.

"Actually, I can. Now, _mes amis_, unless you have any more, ah, comments to add, I suggest we all go inside. _Mademoiselle_?"

"_Enchanté_," Luna said, with a horribly thick French accent, as she walked towards the body.

* * *

"What d'you reckon he meant by 'understanding our distress'?" Dom Hughes, a Part-3 Cadet, asked his friend, who was devouring a packet of potato chips as though he was starved. They mumbled something in reply, their mouth extremely full.

"Oh, hello Dominic ..." Luna Lovegood had joined the two boys. Dom waved slightly, but otherwise ignoring her.

"You know ..." Luna Lovegood said, smiling slightly. "Poirot was once infatuated with a Countess Vera Rosakoff, you know," she said again, raising an eyebrow madly. "I think he still is, ask him about it, but try not to be rude ..."

Dom coughed. "And why would I do that?" he asked cynically, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Because," Luna's voice had now gone dangerously cold. "You asked, did you not, what the famous Poirot meant by understanding your distress. _Maybe_ if you spent less time gossiping and more time doing a bit of detective work yourself, you would not have to ask such _idiotic questions_. _Everyone _knows what Hercule meant by understanding your distress; but just because _you're _too stupid to read a book once in a while doesn't mean everyone else is."

Dom's friend grinned appreciatively; Dom just stared.

"Oh, and _by the way_. That T-shirt _sucks_."

All three looked at Dom Hughes' Fall Out Boy shirt. Luna smirked, and skipped away with possibly a touch more sanity than usual.

* * *

"...Y_ou break your promises in two/What can I do?/When you're the same old brand new you_..."

Dom J Hughes turned up the volume of his iPod and sighed. Over in a corner Luna and Poirot were conversing in hushed voices, their eyes darting around the room every now and again. At the back of the classroom, surprisingly unnoticed by Christopher Kennedy and Alex Roberts, Greg Knight and Will Carter were throwing their berets to each other as though it was a game of Ultimate Frisbee. And right in the centre of the room, right under Alex Roberts' nose, Abbie Hughes was gossiping extremely loudly with her neighbours; George Clark and Matt Cullen.

Dom turned the volume up even higher, glaring at everyone making noise.

"Oy! Put that beret down _now_!" Finally, someone had noticed Will and Greg's ridiculous competition. "It's mine!"

Mike Walsh scowled at the two boys for a while, then promptly sat down and motioned for Greg to throw his beret to him.

Dom turned his iPod volume higher.

"You were on _television_?!"

Matt Cullen nodded, grinning at Abbie and George's awe.

"That is _so cool_!"

Dom was practically being deafened by his music now. The volume was so high, and Dom's concentration was so low, he almost didn't notice Poirot shouting to the Cadets. Almost.

"What the –" Dom ripped out his earphones as everyone in the room started shrieking. "Excuse me, but what the _hell _is going on?"

"Michael Szuplewski's _dead_!"


	6. United States Versus Disbelief

"Yeah, like hell he is," Dom Hughes stared at Sarah Craine with raised eyebrows.

"It's true," Christopher Kennedy confirmed, his face pale. "At least that's what _this_ says." He brandished a slip of torn paper worriedly.

"Oh, give me that." Dom Hughes snatched the note out of Chris' hands impatiently, his eyes scanning the words scrawled there. "Has Poirot or Luna seen this?"

Christopher Kennedy blushed deeply. "Well ... I was _going _to tell Poirot but he's with, er, you know..." His face went even redder as he glanced towards the peculiar blond girl; her pale eyes staring right back at him. Dom Hughes coughed pointedly before walking over to the stout Belgian detective.

"_Monsieur_? Christopher Kennedy found this."

Hercule Poirot took the paper from Dom, a concerned frown upon his forehead. His dark eyes scrutinized it expertly, before murmuring a noise of approval.

"Ah, he's really done this thing well, hasn't he?"

Dom raised his eyebrows, leaning closer to the detective; because the nearby hysterics of a couple of Cadets made it quite hard to hear Poirot's hushed words. Hercule repeated himself, and then stood up grandly.

"_Mes amis_!" Poirot called, holding up his hands for attention. The Cadets around him stopped to listen, but those at the back of the room were still screaming. Christopher Kennedy suspected a few were enjoying this a _bit _too much; Greg Knight was taking advantage of the drama to restart his beret-throwing with Will and Mike.

"_MES AMIS_!" Christopher Kennedy yelled, without thinking as he spoke in French. That silenced the Cadets, one gave an embarrassed giggle before being silenced by Luna's scowl.

"_Merci__, monsieur_. _Enfants_, you have all, have you not, recently be informed of Michael Szuplewski's death? I would like to tell you that this ... is ... a ... _LIE_."

Stillness greeted these words; each Cadet was as shocked as the other.

"But –" Alex Roberts was the first to find his voice. "–that's absolutely preposterous! H-he can't be _alive_, he's dead! That note thing says so!"

Poirot grimaced, doing a fancy gesture as he read the words on the paper aloud.

"'_Cadets, sorry, but Michael Zoop-uhl-skee is dead. He was murdered. From ME.'"_

A few people sniggered.

"It's written in _blood_," Alex offered. That shut them up.

"It's not _blood_," Hercule Poirot explained, waving the paper in Alex's face. "It's just red ink. Used by a lot of, how you say? ... Wannabe murderers. And, without further ado, Christopher Kennedy?"

Chris Kennedy glanced once at the Belgian detective before promptly leaving the classroom. Alex Roberts ordered everyone back to their seats, his face clearly giving away the fact he knew nothing more about this than the Cadets did.

A Part-3 Cadet raised his eyebrows at Dom for information, but Dom just shrugged and sat down with his friend.

"Wait." Mike Walsh was the only one standing now; he stared at Luna and Poirot furiously. "If Michael Szuplewski's _alive_, where the hell is he?"

Poirot's face came as close to a smirk as ever; his black eyes glinting happily. He rocked triumphantly on his heels while his fingers curled his spectacularly styled moustache.

"M. Szuplewski, _monsieur_, is currently situated in the library. _Monsieur _Kennedy has gone to retrieve him before notifying the younger Recruits of the latest updates."

Mike Walsh nodded slowly, still looking extremely confused.

"And now," Sergeant Alex Roberts gestured to the whiteboard, "we shall learn about _clouds_."

* * *

"MICHAEL SZPUPLEWSKI! HOW _DARE _YOU PULL A PRANK LIKE THAT! YOU'VE PUT _SHAME _ON THE RAF, NOT TO MENTION THE CHAOS YOU CAUSED IN THE MIDDLE OF A _VERY IMPORTANT LESSON_!" Major Adcock, the Head of Calday's CCF, narrowed his eyes at Michael. He was in a _very _bad mood. Not only was his reputation ruined, oh no. He now had to do the one very thing he had feared since starting the job.

"MICHAEL SZUPLEWSKI!" he roared. "YOU'RE EXPELLED!"


	7. All The Things She Said

"And then …" Michael Szuplewski sobbed. "He EXPELLED me!"

Luna Lovegood nodded sympathetically and patted Michael's arm, not paying the slightest bit of notice to a word he was saying. Michael Szuplewski burst into hysterical tears, burying his face in his arms. They were sitting on the steps outside Calday, which ironically was the exact place where Lorraine Bhebhe's body was found.

"You know …" Luna smiled slightly. "It's not as bad as you'd think. It could be worse."

"HOW could it be WORSE?" Michael stared at Luna Lovegood with utter disbelief; his eyes red from crying.

"You could be dead."

* * *

"AHA!" Mike Walsh yelled loudly, so loud that Dom Hughes had to shove his hand over Mike's mouth to shut him up. Will Carter raised his eyebrows pointedly and Dom dropped his hand.

"A _confession_!" Mike whispered gleefully, peering round the corner to see the spot where Luna and Michael Szuplewski were sitting.

"How was that a confession?" Matt Cullen raised his eyebrows, exchanging A Look with George Clark.

A few Cadets, eager to find out more about this business, had assembled around the side of the building. As Christopher Kennedy had assured them, it was not eavesdropping; just curiosity had got the better of them. What they were doing was perfectly legal and perfectly acceptable.

Now, however, Christopher Kennedy was having second thoughts. Trapped in a headlock from Greg Knight, his face was turning redder and redder. Greg blamed this on Christopher's close proximity to Luna Lovegood.

"I think you're strangling him," Matt Cullen stared at Greg Knight, but making no move to stop him. Greg shrugged carelessly.

"It was a confession! I confession, I tell you!" Mike Walsh brought everyone back to the business at hand. Will Carter and Dom Hughes both sighed together. "I swear it was!"

"You know," Abbie Hughes pointed out, "you're the only one who thinks anything of this."

"Did you hear what she said?! '_You could be dead'_!"

"Hey, that rhymes," George Clark nodded appreciatively, ignoring Mike's scowl at being interrupted. "What's your point?"

"My point," Mike lowered his voice for dramatic effect; no one took the slightest bit of notice. "Is that if Michael Szuplewski dies … well. We all know who's to blame." He stared around the corner pointedly.

"Luna Lovegood? _Please_," Will Carter rolled his pale eyes exasperatedly. "Like hell she's killing people. She's too crazy!"

"Craziness," Mike replied, narrowing his eyes, "is one of the main reasons for murder."

"Ooh, get _you_." Dom Hughes was getting bored. "And yes, George, we _know_ that that also rhymes. Mike, don't you think you're taking this a bit too literally? Luna's never out of sight from Poirot; do you _really _think a detective such as Poirot would allow murder to happen under his very nose?"

"_Actually_," Christopher Kennedy had thankfully been released from Greg's grasp; now, his face was alight with pure enthusiasm "In _one_ Poirot novel, he –"

"We don't care!" Mike silenced Christopher immediately. "Look, the fact is, where's _Monsieur _Poirot now? Hm? If Luna kills Michael Szuplewski _right now_, Poirot will have no idea!"

"It will be just slightly obvious," Christopher gave Mike a withering look, "if eight of us go barging up to Poirot and put forward a suggestion that Luna murdered someone right before all our eyes. Besides, the murderer would be cleverer than that. They wouldn't kill someone in broad daylight, honestly." Christopher Kennedy smirked at Mike's apparent stupidity. That shut Mike Walsh up.

* * *

"Szuplewski's really upset …" George Clark and Matt Cullen had retreated back to the classroom in which the other girls, Alex Roberts, and Richard Lean were all sitting. Everyone else was still outside.

"Oh no," Sarah Craine bit her lip worriedly. "Should we go and speak to him?"

"No," Matt said, standing behind Vanessa Owen. "He's with Luna, he'll be fine."

Sarah still didn't seem convinced. George sighed heavily, ducking as Richard half-heartedly aimed a beret at him.

"D'you know what Mike Walsh said, though?" Matt Cullen raised his eyebrow. "He practically said Luna was responsible for everyone's death."

Alex Roberts swore. "Don't be so ridiculous! For God's sake, Luna? She wouldn't kill people, I know it."

"That's what Kennedy said." George Clark picked up Richard's beret and flung it across the room, ignoring Richard's protests.

"Well." Alex spoke as though this settled the matter, and in all fairness it did. For now, at least.


	8. What You Said When You Left

"I've been thinking ..." Dom Hughes was walking back to the classroom with Will Carter and Christopher Kennedy.

"Miracles may never cease." Greg Knight overtook the trio, taking particular care to get back before anyone else. Dom scowled at him.

"_Anyway_, I have been thinking. I was reading a Poirot book for background information –" (Christopher Kennedy gave a whoop of joy,) "–and he's not doing this thing properly. Poirot, that is. It's a bit peculiar."

Christopher Kennedy nodded eagerly, excited at the prospect of discussing his newly favourite book series.

"I know!" He said, motioning enthusiastically and hitting Will Carter in the face. "Like, all _Monsieur _Hercule's done is sat there doing nothing!"

Will, rubbing his bruised nose, struck a pose that he clearly thought was dramatically inspirational.

"I think," he said darkly, venomously glaring around himself, "it's time to _do this on our own_."

That would've been the perfect moment for movie-style dramatic music; had Dom Hughes not dropped dead there and then.

* * *

"WHAT THE –"

Will Carter swiftly spun round, scanning the surroundings for the culprit. The only living person in sight, excluding Christopher and Will, was a shady figure approaching slowly. As they came closer, Christopher Kennedy gave an uncontrollable cry of despair and dropped to his knees. Luna Lovegood stared at him.

"Honestly, _mon ami_, pull yourself together."

That sure as hell wasn't Luna. The voice sounded deeper, darker, more ... _Belgian_ than Luna's strong British accent. Christopher, still in hysterics, did not hear this crucial information. Will, however, did.

"You're not Loony!" He gasped, covering his mouth with his hand theatrically. Luna – or Poirot – smiled; a glint in their beady little eyes.

"_Précisément_. _Mon ami_ –"

"You killed Dom!" Will Carter wailed extremely loudly, enjoying the drama.

Poirot very nearly scowled.

"Don't be so ridiculous, _enfant_. Me, murder a living being like that? _Mon ami_, what you are thinking is WRONG, ALL WRONG! Human life is _sacré_! _Mon Dieu_!" Poirot shook his head sadly, his eyes resting on Christopher's shrivelled heap of a body.

"_Mon Dieu_, pull yourself together!"Hercule Poirot said again, heaving Christopher up by his shirt collar.

"NO!" Christopher Kennedy screwed his eyes tight shut so as to not look his supposed love in the eye. He still hadn't realised Luna Lovegood was about as much in the vicinity as Dom Hughes was alive.

"_Mon Dieu_," Poirot rolled his black eyes disgustedly. "What kind of man are you? Call yourself a Cadet ..."

"Actually," Christopher Kennedy cleared his throat authoritatively. "I'm more of a _Sergeant_."

Poirot almost scowled again.

"Why are you dressed up as Loony anyway? And why the –" Will Carter then said a very bad word, "– did you kill Dom?"

Poirot sighed wearily. This was going to take some explaining.

* * *

"Ohhhhhh ..." Will Carter nodded slowly, putting a finger on his chin for effect. "I see ..."

Hercule Poirot cleared his throat, bending down to examine Dom Hughes' corpse. Poirot gently turned Dom's head one way, leaning closer to see properly.

"I don't get it," Will Carter then said, wiping his eyes. "Who'd want to kill _Dom_?"

Hercule Poirot had found what he was looking for. Satisfied, he leaned back on his heels and turned to the two students.

"_Précisément, mes amis_. It's absurd! But, if you see here ..." Poirot beckoned Christopher Kennedy to come closer, pointing at a small red dot on Dom's neck. "Poison. Botulinum, to be exact. The most deadly poison known to man; once contracted the nervous system _completely _shuts down. Just the smallest dose can kill ... _Monsieur _Hughes didn't stand a chance."

Christopher Kennedy gulped, but was saved from answering by the arrival of Alex Roberts.

"Hey everyone ... WHAT THE –" Alex's eyes had caught on Dom's still figure. Poirot smiled slightly, holding his hands up in surrender.

"_Monsieur_, let me explain."

Alex, fuming, stamped his foot in frustration.

"No! I'm not having this! You can't allow people to drop dead every day without serious consequences! I'm _sick _of this murder –" Alex Roberts also said a bad word, though this was slightly lighter than Will's. "–and to think! To think that we'd stand here and let you laze around doing nothing!" Alex Roberts really was losing his temper. A vein was pulsing in his neck. "I've had it up to _here _with this, so you know what? You know what? I _QUIT_."

And with that, Alex Roberts ripped his beret off his head and threw it onto the concrete below; wheeled around and stalked off towards the exit.

Christopher Kennedy and Will Carter were stunned into silence. Poirot, however, had other ideas. Reaching into his jacket pocket he extracted a small rectangular device and pushed a rather conspicuous red button.

"_Monsieurs_?" he said, holding the device up to his mouth and staring at Alex Roberts' retreating back. "Your time has come."


	9. The Sweetest Dream Will Never Do

Michael Szuplewski hummed a tune to himself as he sorted through papers on the desk in front of him. So far nothing had come to his attention, but that was hardly surprising – the whole mound of documents was written entirely in French.

Hercule Poirot's neat scrawl had become imprinted on Michael's mind now, not one page in front of him was empty. Michael sighed. This was why he should have taken French for GCSE, he thought to himself, glowering at a framed picture of Poirot. Then, of course, he'd know what these ridiculous phrases _Hercule _Poirot threw around permanently meant.

Right now, however ... his job was done.

* * *

"... But the angle of attack also affects ... air resistance ... plane ... flying ..."

Will Carter yawned. He had not heard a single word Christopher Kennedy had said, which was drastic, really, since the Cadets were being tested on this subject in ten minutes. Will was too busy pondering over what had previously happened. Dom, Poirot, that device with the conspicuous red button ... it was all quite mysterious.

Hercule Poirot had forcefully assured Christopher and Will that both Alex Roberts and Dom Hughes were fine. They weren't – one was dead and the other gone. Will Carter supposed that was Poirot's way of making them feel better.

It hadn't worked.

"... shapes of the wing ... lift ... stalling ... square of 4 ... arrow here shows that the ..."

Mike Walsh raised his eyebrows to Will Carter from across the room, pointing prominently towards the door. Will stared at it, nothing was happening. But as he watched; slowly, ever so slowly, the door opened.

A few girls screamed.

"Oh for god's sake, pull yerselves together!" A boy with elaborately spiked blond hair rolled his eyes at his companion; who was taller, had darker hair, and glasses.

Christopher Kennedy stared at them.

"Excuse me, who the hell are you?"

The taller boy smiled slightly.

"I'm Ben!" He said, gesturing to his companion quite sophisticatedly. The blond boy cleared his throat.

"And _I'm _Ben!" He also said, laughing.

Christopher Kennedy raised an eyebrow, but was saved from answering by Luna Lovegood peering round the door.

"I'm awfully sorry, Cadets – why hello Christopher! – but these two charming young gentlemen will be joining you ... I do hope it's not too much trouble, they're here on Poirot's orders after all ..."

The blond Ben grinned widely.

"Yes siree! Where is he, anyway?" Blond Ben looked around as though expecting the Belgian detective to magically appear at any moment. Christopher Kennedy, however, had been rendered speechless by Luna Lovegood.

Mike Walsh and Will Carter raised their eyebrows at each other. Mike, at the arrival of Luna Lovegood, Suspect Number 1; Will, by the arrival of Poirot's new henchmen.

"So," Mike Walsh said with heavy meaning, staring, like Christopher Kennedy, at Luna Lovegood.

"So ..." Luna smiled slightly, as though she knew exactly what Mike Walsh was trying to imply. Christopher Kennedy blushed.

"Just ignore him," he muttered, moving closer to Luna. This caused a few knowing snickers from the Cadets; Rachel Concannon and Sarah Craine leaned forward, eavesdropping on Christopher Kennedy.

"… and I think, you know, you're amazing …"

"HE'S CONFESSING HIS LOVE TO HER!" Rachel gaped, spinning round to spread the news. Unfortunately the whole room heard, including Christopher and Luna. Christopher promptly blushed deeper.

"Honestly, god, if he were confessing his love he'd do it when he was _alone_," Richard Lean rolled his eyes as though he were an expert on the matter.

"Oh, _really_? What makes _you_ such a know-it-all?" Rachel was losing her patience quickly.

"Me," Richard smirked, and decided to say no more. This greatly infuriated Rachel Concannon; she pulled a face at him before turning back to the front.

* * *

"_'Operation Christopher Kennedy'_? We're not in a movie!" Vanessa Owen sighed.

"No, but it's a good idea …"

Richard Lean lounged against the wall, listening silently to the heated conversation Sarah, Vanessa and Rachel were having. It was quite amusing.

"Hm, good idea if you want Kennedy's heart to be broken." Sarah snapped, rolling her eyes at Vanessa.

Rachel Concannon was about to retort angrily had it not been for Richard intervening.

"Girls, girls ..." he held up his hands in mock surrender. "You're failing to realise one major point."

The three female Cadets stared at him. Richard coughed.

"Christopher Kennedy is in there right now! Alone! With that Lovegood girl! _Mon Dieu_," he said, imitating Poirot as he put his head in his hand.

"Oh." Vanessa Owen said.

"Ah." Sarah Craine frowned.

"Hm." Rachel Concannon seemed satisfied.

* * *

"So ... what made you decide to join this beautiful organisation?" Luna Lovegood smiled serenely as she examined a beret a Cadet had left behind.

Christopher Kennedy was unable to speak.

"I, well, uh, you know ..." He gave a nervous cough.

Luna stared at him oddly.

"It's ... it's, um, cool." He finally said, after a long pause.

"Cool." Luna repeated, raising an eyebrow. Christopher nodded and gulped.

"It's not just c-cool; you ... you meet," Christopher Kennedy gestured to Luna frantically, "nice, uh, people."

Luna beamed happily; this just made Christopher blush.

"Uh, Luna? Well, um, I, you know, you know?" Christopher said again, not making any sense whatsoever.

"You're not making any sense whatsoever."

He laughed, perhaps louder than was considered sane, alarming Luna and the four certain Cadets who were listening in by the door.

* * *

"Ow! Rachel, that was my foot!" Sarah Craine glowered at her friend, who shrugged weakly.

"Something's happening!" Vanessa Owen said excitedly, bringing Sarah's attention back to the door.

"Oh boy," Richard Lean murmured, wrinkling his nose in disgust and refusing to eavesdrop any longer.

"What? What's happening?" Rachel pushed Richard out of the way to get a better view. This didn't bother him, after what he'd just seen he'd happily get _murdered_.

"Oh ..." Rachel stared shell-shocked at the room inside the door.

"My ..." Sarah Craine widened her eyes.

Richard Lean said nothing, but smirked slightly.

"_God_," Vanessa Owen looked quite thrilled at the prospect of spreading new gossip. "This is so cool!"

Richard coughed disagreeably and refrained from replying.

* * *

"I don't understand ..." Luna Lovegood looked overwhelmingly sad as she sat down on a desk. Christopher Kennedy mumbled something inaudible. "You've just told me you have a passion for roasting chickens on a stick ..."

Christopher then made an inhumane noise that would closely be referred to as "GACK!"

"NO!" He shouted, startling everyone who was listening. "I meant ... oh cripes ..." Christopher Kennedy grabbed the nearest French dictionary and leafed through it urgently. Luna raised her eyebrows.

"I can't understand a word of proper French, you know," she informed Christopher. He shrugged absent-mindedly as he now started ripping the pages in eagerness. Luna Lovegood sighed resignedly.

"AHA!" Christopher yelled, looking all too pleased with himself. Luna stared at him.

"_Mademoiselle _... Luna," he started, flourishing the dictionary triumphantly. "_Je t'aime du fond de mon cœur _…"

Luna fell off her seat in shock, and when she stood up again her face was as red as Christopher's.

"Oh _great_," Christopher said bitterly. "You don't even _like _me!"

"Don't be so ridiculous," Luna snapped, sounding quite unlike herself. "Of _course _I like you! I've liked you since the day I walked through that door - no, the day when Poirot first started talking about this business! I didn't know you, not really, but ..."

* * *

"EW!" Richard Lean gagged. "HE KISSED HER!"

Rachel, Sarah and Vanessa had all gone quite dazed.

"It's _True Love_ ..." Rachel sighed, smiling serenely, not unlike Luna Lovegood.

"It's not '_True Love_', it's –" Richard Lean then said a bad word "–disgusting."

"_Richard_!" Sarah Craine hit him. Hard.

Richard Lean, rubbing his arm where a bruise was sure to appear at any moment, kicked the door in frustration. Unfortunately this caused it to open, meaning Christopher Kennedy and Luna Lovegood had a very good idea of why there had been audible sniggers throughout their, um, meeting.

"WHAT THE –" Christopher Kennedy didn't look very happy. Neither, Richard mused, did anyone else.

* * *

Both Christopher Kennedy and Luna Lovegood were now in considerably better moods; however a number of Cadets thought Christopher was taking it a bit too far – he was ridiculously cheery and walked around permanently with a massive grin on his face. Luna, however, was quieter than usual, and she spent most of her time watching Christopher Kennedy instruct the Cadets. Even Poirot was unnaturally nice, his frequent outbursts of angry French shortened over the week. Abbie Hughes diagnosed Christopher to be Officially In Love, something which Rachel Concannon strongly agreed with. Richard Lean, however, had something else on his mind.

"Don't you think it's a bit _odd_," he said to Mike Walsh as the two boys made their way slowly towards the Drill square, "that suddenly all the girls are going crazy over Christopher and Luna's _'relationship'_?" Richard said the last word with venomous disgust, expressing exactly what he thought about the matter in that short sentence.

Mike shrugged.

"I mean," Richard continued, mindlessly kicking a pebble, "it's not like he's so great."

Mike Walsh suddenly thought that Richard was jealous. He sniggered softly to himself, but Richard Lean did not notice.

"Let's be serious," he was now saying, as they walked through the gate, "Luna Lovegood, right, so she's weird. And pretty, I guess, if you ignore all the kookiness. Christopher Kennedy and Luna Lovegood? Er, no."

"I think they're made for each other," Rachel Concannon sighed as she and Abbie Hughes overtook the two boys. Richard scowled.

* * *

"_Mes amis_!" Christopher Kennedy sang happily in a vague French tone as he skipped around the Drill square. Richard Lean raised his eyebrows. George Clark and Matt Cullen stifled laughter.

"How are _you _on this fine, _fine _day?" Christopher kneeled at Sarah Craine's feet. Sarah blushed slightly, embarrassed.

"Um, great?" She offered, giving her friend Vanessa a humiliated glance.

"How wondrous! Spectacular! Thrilling!" Christopher was scaring a few people, but luckily was refrained from saying anything else by the prompt arrival of Poirot, Luna, and the two Bens.

"'Allo 'allo 'allo!" Ben, the blond Ben that is, waved exaggeratedly. The taller Ben nodded slightly.

"_Bonsoir_!" Christopher called, bounding over to Luna Lovegood. Hercule Poirot almost smirked.


	10. A Footnote In Someone Else's Happiness

"_Excusez moi_," Hercule Poirot barged past Luna and Christopher urgently. Hastily walking towards Abbie, George and Matt; he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

"_Enfants_!" He called. The three Cadets looked at him. Jogging slightly, Poirot reached the three students with an air of triumph.

"Yes?" Matt Cullen raised his eyebrows expectantly, but not meaning to be rude.

"_Mes amis_, you have all been troubled, have you not, about the … ah … disappearance of _Monsieur _Hughes?"

"It wasn't a disappearance," Abbie narrowed her eyes, surprising even herself. "Dom's _dead_."

Poirot mumbled something indistinct and avoided looking at any of them in the eye.

"_Oui_," he said after a fashion, twirling his spectacular mustache anxiously. "Dom _is _dead, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you. I need your help."

George couldn't control his delight; he let out a whoop of joy before being silenced by Poirot's stare.

"What with?" Matt Cullen inquired, almost afraid to wonder. Poirot beamed at him.

"Now, _enfants_, I'll get to that in a minute. But for now …" Hercule Poirot offered Abbie his arm. She accepted, and together the four of them started to retreat back to the building.

* * *

Michael Szuplewski sprinted forcefully towards his camp, the place where he now slept. He wouldn't call it a home; he was never there during the day. When it was light he had better things to do. Reaching his tent, he clambered inside, only to come face to face with an unexpected addition.

"_JESUS –_" Michael stared at the rabbit for longer than was really necessary. The animal's dark eyes blinked back at him. Both of them were silent.

"He's mine." A figure stepped out of the shadows behind Michael. Michael Szuplewski peered curiously out of the tent and looked directly at a pair of black Converse.

"Hello, Alex."

Alex Roberts bent down, beckoning for the rabbit. The animal just sat there.

"He's called Voldemort," Alex explained, straightening up, and brushing grass of his knees. "Not that bad, usually, but sometimes he can be a bit much."

Michael shrugged, looking back at Voldemort. The rabbit glared at him, and Michael quickly turned back to Alex Roberts.

"What are _you _doing here?" Michael Szuplewski said the first thing that came to his head. "Hey, are you spying on me?"

Alex threw back his head and laughed.

"No." He spluttered after a while, controlling his hysterics. "I left. For good, and I was hoping you'd let me live here. Because no way am I going back to _that place_." Alex spoke about CCF with venomous disgust.

Michael shrugged, as though he couldn't care less, but inside he was secretly pleased he had someone to share his impressive plans with.

Tossing Alex a pillow, Michael clambered into his sleeping bag. Alex Roberts gestured thankfully and eventually, the two Cadets nodded off.

* * *

"I have found something out," Poirot shrugged modestly, "and it may be linked to Alex and Michael Szuplewski's departure."

"Go on …" Matt Cullen prompted.

"Well." Poirot rocked back on his heels mischievously. "My comrades – I mean, my _associates_ – have been following Alex Roberts movements since the _fateful _day he left us for good."

Abbie Hughes suspected Poirot was enjoying the absence of Alex more than he was letting on.

"You mean you've been _prying _in Alex Roberts' private business?" George Clark shook his head in mock disapproval. "Tut tut, Poirot."

"No, _monsieur_," Hercule Poirot sounded stern, a sure sign he had missed the joke part of George's speech, "they have been _working_. Now, _when _you've finished …"

George Clark nodded quickly, firmly avoiding eye contact with Abbie.

"The two _enfants _have been closely observing Michael Szuplewski's movements whilst I was busy here, and as soon as Alex Roberts quit this organization I made it their duty to follow him. You see, I _knew _something dark and dangerous was going on. Something that's above all which has happened here."

"You mean to say," Matt Cullen pulled a face, "that Alex _Roberts _has been killing people?"

"NO!" Hercule Poirot roared, frightening the lives out of the three Cadets. George Clark bit back a smile.

"I mean, _mon ami_, that _Monsieur _Szuplewski has been plotting against me!" Poirot wiped his brow anxiously. "I think … no, wait, I _know_ that Alex Roberts and Michael Szuplewski have joined forces! Right at this very minute they're hatching a plot! I fear that the next death … will be mine."

Matt Cullen raised his eyebrows.

"So what're you going to do about it?" Abbie asked dubiously.

"My _associates _have installed a small device in Szuplewski's hideaway. Over time we shall see just what exactly they're doing … and maybe then we can put a stop to it …"

* * *

"Luna …" Mike Walsh ignored Christopher Kennedy entirely as he stood in front of the blond girl. Luna Lovegood stared expectantly at him.

"Can I talk to you? In, er, private?"

Christopher rolled his eyes and stomped away to his friends. Yes, he does actually have friends.

"You see …" Mike Walsh glanced slightly towards Richard Lean, who was having a very forced conversation with Sarah, Vanessa and Rachel. "My friend, right, he's …"

"Is this Richard Lean?" Luna smiled serenely as Mike flushed.

"Er, yes it is actually. Well, he was just wondering whether you needed any … _advice_." This word obviously disgusted Mike as much as it did Luna.

"Advice?" Luna Lovegood wrinkled her nose. "About what?"

Mike Walsh mumbled something extremely quietly. Luna stared at him.

"Okay!" Mike held up his hands in surrender. "About your relationship with Kenno!"

"'_Kenno_'?" Luna Lovegood asked incredulously. Mike nodded. "Oh. Well can you please inform your friend Richard that _'Kenno_' and I do not need any advice …?"

Mike nodded again and started to walk towards Richard Lean, thinking desperately of how he was going to nicely put Richard down.

"Michael?" Luna called softly, and Mike was so used to being called, well, _Mike_, that he actually looked round for Michael Szuplewski. After understanding, however, that it was he Luna was talking about; he turned and waited. Luna Lovegood skipped up to him, perhaps with a touch of irritation.

"Sorry." Luna did actually look sincerely apologetic as she shrugged at Mike Walsh. "But … me and Christopher are, you know, a match made in heaven."

There was nothing else for Mike to do.

"EW!" He gagged, very disgusted.


	11. Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly

"Right," Michael Szuplewski pointed to a thin blue line on the map he and Alex were looking at. "I've estimated that Poirot will probably send his two idiots - sorry, henchmen - around this river. That means if we have any chance of escaping them we need to go via the Cave Of Doom."

It took Alex a while to process this. When he finally did, however, he arched his eyebrows at Michael.

"The '_Cave Of Doom_'? No offence, Michael, but I bet my chances on that not being its real name."

"Oh, alright," Michael snapped, folding the map up with great difficulty. "The Cave Of Death, then, is that better?"

Alex shook his head wearily. Why did he sign up for this? he thought to himself. Oh, wait, he didn't.

* * *

"No, it's all about the timing!" Rachel Concannon rolled her eyes. "If Christopher propsed to Luna now, all hell will be set loose!"

"Ah, yes, but -" Richard Lean gave up as he spied Mike approaching. Mumbling hurried apologies to the three girls, he made his way over to his friend.

"What'd she say?"

Mike looked at the ground, thinking extremely quickly.

"Er," he finally said, "Luna doesn't like people prying in her relationships."

Richard didn't appear to be too let-down by this, which, Mike thought, was a start.

"Oh well," Richard shrugged, "the latest gossip is that he's going to propose."

* * *

"I still don't see why you need our help," George pointed to himself, Abbie and Matt.

Hercule Poirot almost smirked.

"Ah, _bien_. If you did know, I'd be extremely worried. Do you know why?"

George shook his head slowly, for once not joining in with Abbie's sniggering.

"Because I have not told you!" Poirot cackled, alarming even Matt. "But seriously, _enfants_, calm down now." Hercule ignored, or perhaps didn't hear, George's cry of protest a the unfairness of that request.

* * *

"HE'S GOING TO _PROPOSE_?!"

* * *

"Hurry, Ben!" The blond Ben shouted loudly, relaxing on a section of mossy grass. The taller Ben slowly made his way through piles of dangerous looking rocks, pausing every once in a while to make sure he didn't trip. Blond Ben didn't like having to do that, he was much happier running ahead and getting there first. Wherever 'there' was. As you may have guessed, this made long distance travelling difficult.

"C'mon, Ben! Let's not wait for the _grass to grow_!"

The taller Ben glared at his friend's distant figure and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He hated it when his friend came out with ridiculous clichés like the one about growing grass. It was _so _last century.

"For crying out loud!" Blond Ben was getting impatient now. "We don't _have _until _2012_, you know."

That was another thing which annoyed the taller Ben. Blond Ben believed very thoroughly in the theory of 2012 - basically, we're all going to die, as predicted by the Aztecs, scientists, and a very imaginitive team of movie writers - and nothing anyone could say would make him think otherwise.

**[[A/N - From now on, I'm going to call Blond Ben "Ben #1" and the other Ben "Ben #2". It's getting a bit confusing calling them Blond Ben and Ben With Glasses and whatever. I'd give you their surnames, but (1) I think some details should be reserved, and (2) It adds to their mysterious characters. I think I'll go listen to some Jay Sean now. BABY ARE YOU DOWN, DOWN, DOWN, DOWN, DOWN ... sorry. Couldn't resist.]]**

Ben #1 yawned loudly and stretched as Ben #2 slowly, ever so slowly, advanced.

"Beh-ehn!" he yelled, unwrapping a cheese sandwich that he had found in his pocket. "Do you _want_ to take any longer?"

He was _seriously_ annoying Ben #2 now. Kicking an unnaturally large rock, Ben #2 felt his toe break.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

In the distance, Ben #1 rolled his eyes dramatically.

* * *

"No," Richard Lean explained patiently to Mike. "That's just the gossip, honestly, you should know better than to listen to idle chitchat."

Mike narrowed his eyes.

"Of course," Richard backtracked hurriedly, after seeing the look on Mike's face, "I don't blame you for believing it, if I were you I'd have done the same thing and -"

"But you're _not _me, are you, Richard?" Mike snapped, not expecting an answer. Not wanting an answer, more like. Fortunately, Richard didn't give him one. He knew better than that.

"I think I'll just go over here," Richard said weakly, practically sprinting towards Vanessa, Rachel and Sarah.

* * *

"Tell me _why_," Matt Cullen requested of Poirot impatiently.

Abbie stared at George. George stared at Abbie. They could feel a Backstreet Boys song approaching.

"I said," Matt glared at Hercule Poirot, who was eyeing Abbie and George with newfound respect. "Tell me _why_."

Abbie Hughes couldn't help it.

"AIN'T NOTHING BUT A HEARTACHE!" She sung, quite badly, but nontheless it was very loud.

"TELL ME WHY!" George joined in, clapping his hands to keep the rythym.

Matt scowled at them, but still they continued.

"AIN'T NOTHING BUT A MISTAKE!"

"TELL ME WHY!"

Poirot racked his brains. He was sure he had heard that song before.

"I NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU SAY!"

At last he remembered. Abandoning all dignity, and in a very thick Belgian accent, he sung:

"I WANT IT THA-AHT WAY!"

* * *

"Oh my god." Rachel Concannon had gone very pale as she stared at a clearing not so far away. Sarah, Vanessa, Richard and Mike (who had followed Richard - he had nothing better to do) all turned to look where Rachel was pointing. As they viewed the scene, Christopher Kennedy reached into his pocket, and, to Luna's shock, got down on one knee.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Richard Lean couldn't resist. "I _KNEW_ that would happen!"

Sarah Craine promptly told him to shut up.

So anyway, where were we. Ah, yes, The Proposal.

As Christopher opened the little box he was holding, a masked figure dressed all in black crept up behind him. Vanessa, Rachel, and Mike all screamed. Luckily, or unluckily, neither Christopher nor Luna couldn't hear them. For one, they were too far away, and another reason was Richard Lean was in hysterics.

"You scream like a girl!" he laughed at Mike. Mike scowled.

Sarah Craine, who was the only girl not to have screamed, told them all to shut up again.

The shady man - at least, it sure looked like a man - was directly behind Christopher now. Luna Lovegood stared at him, her mouth open, but no words came out. Luckily for the man, and unluckily for Christopher, this was how Luna normally looked, so Christopher didn't take any notice.

The figure raised its arm, brandishing an axe.

One swing, and Christopher was dead.


	12. Now I'll Never Have A Chance

As the Cadets assembled themselves in the main hall, Poirot was outside comforting Luna.

"_Je suis trés désolé, madamoiselle_," he said, as Luna cried on his shoulder.

"He was," Luna sobbed, "going to propose!"

Poirot, thankfully, didn't remark on the ridiculousness of proposing in such a short time. Luna and Christopher were in love, and Hercule had noticed people did odd things when in love.

"Luna," Sarah Craine stepped away from her four friends sympathetically. "It's time to go in."

Luna nodded, wiping her eyes, and escaped from Poirot into Sarah's arms.

"Oh dear," Richard mumbled. "I feel bad for laughing, now."

Mike Walsh nodded somberly, patting him on the back.

"It's okay," he said, when in fact it wasn't okay. Far from it, if the expression on Luna's sad face was anything to go by.

* * *

"We are gathered here today ..." An elder boy, who would've been around Christopher's and Alex Roberts' age, spoke quietly to the Cadets before him. His name was Andrew Davies, and he had been quite fond of Christopher. Unfortunately, however, he had to face up to the fact that Christopher Kennedy was never coming back. "... To express our sadness at the death of Sergeant Christopher Kennedy. He, along with other Cadets, has been treacherously murdered in the past few weeks. Now, let us take a moment to reflect on these departed people. They were friends here, and dedicated Cadets, and not one of them will go unremembered. Polly Pattinson. Lorraine Bhebhe. Michael Szup - er, not Michael Szuplewski. Dom Hughes. And now, Christopher Kennedy."

A few girls started crying hysterically.

"I know these are troubled times," Andrew Davies continued, speaking louder over the wailing, "but we must stand together as one. United, in the face of misery, that is the only way to battle with the situation. We do not know who is causing all of this grief, but believe me when I say this – we will find out. Together, Cadets, together." He stepped down from the stage, motioning for Greg and Will to take his place.

Even Poirot was wiping his eyes now.

"So," Greg Knight was at a loss of what to say. Will Carter took over.

"Look," he said, with the air of one who had much better things to do, "Andrew asked us to say a few words about Christopher, and we declined."

Abbie and George started sniggering.

"Then he asked us to talk about Dom, and again we decided not to. We didn't know these two guys very well, but we _did _know Polly and Lorraine." Greg cleared his throat importantly. "Like Davies said, these are troubled times."

Andrew Davies now looked like he was having serious doubts about letting the two Cadets onto the stage.

"But seriously," Will said, rolling his eyes. "GET OVER YOURSELVES ALREADY!"

Everyone - including Greg - stared at him with utter shock. The entire hall was silent.

"Oops," Will mumbled. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Andrew snarled at him, stomping towards the two boys furiously. "You shouldn't have. Now GET OFF MY STAGE!"

Reclaiming the Cadets' attention, Andrew turned to Luna Lovegood.

"Miss Lovegood," he said quietly, "you will always be welcome here, no matter what others may say," he glared pointedly at Will Carter, "and I'd like you to know that if you ever need a shoulder to cry on -" Richard Lean looked ready to hit Andrew. "- I'm here. You were a good friend of Christopher's, and a friend of his is a friend of mine."

Luna stared at the floor. George and Abbie, however, smirked knowingly. Sarah Craine glared at them.

"And Mr Poirot," (everyone stared at Hercule Poirot, who was crying freely into a handkerchief. George laughed.) "You'll also be welcome here. That is assuming, of course, you solve this mystery before another one takes place."

Poirot nodded gravely, ignoring George Clark.

* * *

"FINALLY!" Ben #1 yelled, as his friend dodged a particularly dangerous looking piece of grass to reach him.

Ben #2 scowled. If it weren't for Poirot's orders, he and Ben #1 would never be on this stupid expedition. Not that he didn't _like _Hercule, it was just that he had better things to do on a hot afternoon than hike over various geographical features.

"You know," Ben #2 panted, falling thankfully onto the grass. "You're not being very helpful, Ben."

Ben #1 gave him an impish grin, but said nothing.

* * *

The Cadets filed out of the hall slowly, most of them depressed. George and Abbie were still laughing; and Will Carter was fuming over being thrown off the stage. Richard and Sarah, however, had stayed behind with Luna Lovegood. Richard was sitting on a stray table by the wall, and Sarah was giving Luna a comforting hug.

Hercule Poirot, once outside in the bright sunshine, turned to Matt Cullen immediately.

"Matthew!" he barked extremely loudly, claiming a lot of attention from other teary Cadets. Matt Cullen glanced around in embarrassment. Big mistake.

"Don't avoid my eye, boy!" Poirot had decided to try out a few English phrases, and it didn't suit him. "I've been wandering around lately and _you_, boy, have been chillin' on your own!"

Matt wished Poirot would stop calling him 'boy', and hoped he would never have to hear Poirot use rubbish slang again. EVER.

"Um," Matt Cullen stalled, acutely aware of George and Abbie's smirks.

"Yo, homie ..." Good grief. It was getting worse. "I woz readin' -" Matt wished the ground would swallow him up. Preferably as soon as possible. " - an awesomez piece of shizz, y'all, about -"

Thankfully, Matt was saved from hearing what Poirot was "readin'" by a sharp interruption from Andrew Davies.

"Yo, wazzup, homie?"

"Mr Poirot," Andrew firmly ignored Poirot's wannabe-gangster remark. "I need to have A Word with you."

* * *

"Luna, it's okay," Sarah said, glaring at Richard, who had not yet said anything constructive.

Luna shrugged serenely, wiping her eyes.

"Well ... I suppose I'll get over it ..."

"Wow," Richard muttered bitterly. "_That _was quick."

Sarah scowled at him.

"Anyway ..." Luna smiled at Sarah, "I think I've found someone else now, anyway ..."

Richard Lean looked up hopefully.

"Oooh!" Sarah sarah sat up properly, paying extreme attention. "Who?!"

* * *

"Alright, Michael," Alex Roberts had had enough. "You -"

"Look!" Michael Szuplewski pointed to the sky excitedly. Alex looked up. He couldn't see anything but clouds.

"Michael, I can't see anything but cl -"

"No! There!"

Ah, _now_ Alex could see something. Something that looked suspiciously like an owl bearing a letter, in fact. It circled their heads before perching lightly on Alex's shoulder. Alex Roberts untied the note, which was a lot trickier than _Harry Potter_ said it was.

"'_Dear Alex_,'" Michael read aloud, snatching the paper from him. "'_I don't know where you are, but something drastic has happened. Please rejoin the Cadets for the funeral of Sergeant Christopher Kennedy. Signed, Andrew Davies._'"

Michael raised his eyebrows, but Alex was stunned.

"Oh for crying out loud," Michael rolled his eyes. "It's only Christopher Kennedy."

Something inside of Alex snapped. Picking up his bag, and flatly refusing to look at Michael Szuplewski, he started racing away towards the general direction of Calday.

Michael sighed wearily. He'd done what he could do.


	13. Sugar, We're Goin' Down

Richard Lean stormed out of the hall with sheer rage, his mind set only on finding his best friend, Mike Walsh. There he was, talking to Rachel and Vanessa. Richard was getting angrier by the second.

"MICHAEL WALSH!" He roared, pushing his way through a gang of giggling Recruits. "YOU LITTLE BAST -"

Luckily, not many heard the rest of his sentence, as Will and Greg chose that moment to start a furious round of Ultimate Beret Frisbeeing. Mike, Rachel and Vanessa did, though. The two girls decided to make a hasty retreat towards Luna and Sarah, who were looking around for Richard Lean. As you may have already guessed, he wasn't hard to find.

"No offence, Richie, but what the hell are you talking about?" Mike looked quite upset with Richard's insult. Richard almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

"YOU -" Richard swore, which was understandable, really. "- MOTHER -" He swore again. "- HOW COULD YOU?!" At last, a proper sentence that didn't involve the words "fucking" or "fucker".

"Richard, that was insulting!" Mike looked very shocked.

"OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE," Richard snapped. "DON'T PLAY ALL FUCKING INNOCENT WITH ME. I'M SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR BEST FUCKING FRIEND!"

Sarah Craine was hurrying towards them now, not looking at all happy.

"I _am _your best friend ...?" Mike was really getting confused now.

"IF YOU FUCKING WERE MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND, YOU FUCKER, YOU WOUDN'T FUCKING HAVE FUCKING MADE THAT FUCKING FUCKER -"

That was quite enough. Mike Walsh punched him, sending him to the ground. Wow, who knew he could punch that hard? Richard Lean was not giving up without a fight, however; and as he clambered to his feet, he promptly kicked his friend in the shins. Mike screamed, which was admittedly quite amusing, but Richard for once was not laughing at him. Dodging another kick, Mike once again punched Richard, this time making his nose break. He allowed himself a small victory dance before being thrown against the wall through Richard's serious anger. He wasn't hurt, thankfully, but this fact only enraged Richard more.

"DIE!" Richard Lean yelled, thumping into him so Mike's ribs nearly broke. Mike had given up screaming. Now, he was getting angry. And you wouldn't have liked to see him angry.

"YOU DIE!" He shouted, twisting his (ex-) best friend's arm behind his back. This didn't stop either of them, oh no. Richard kicked backwards, sending both Mike and himself to the ground.

"Really, that's quite en -" Sarah Craine was pushed out of harm's way by Poirot; as the two Cadets wrestled furiously.

"YOU FUCKER!" Richard was under the impression he had just knocked out Mike's front teeth. Oops.

"NOOOO!" Mike wailed, making himself an easy target for Richard's next set of hits.

"TAKE! ... _THAT_!"

Richard felt his nose break for the second time, and Mike clambered up from the ground. If you can even break your nose twice. Whatever, it fucking hurt.

Now he was getting even more angry. Shaking off his (ex-) best friend, he kicked down on Richard's leg so hard there was an awful sound as his leg snapped.

"HA!" Mike restarted his victory dance, and as soon as he turned his back he was kicked - hard - by Richard's remaining leg.

"THIS ISN'T FUCKING OVER!" Richard screamed, standing up with extreme difficulty; but was immediately wrestled to the ground by Will Carter who had wanted a bit of attention.

"Fucking _hell_," Greg Knight shook his head tiredly before walking forward and hitting Will round his face.

"DIE!" Will Carter imitated Richard; but he wasn't exactly being deadly serious. Greg, unfortunately, thought he was.

"Oh ..." Rachel Concannon stared at the four boys with horror.

"My ..." Vanessa gulped, dancing agitatedly on the spot.

"_WOAH_!" George and Abbie had joined the crowd.

* * *

"I will not say I told you so," Sarah Craine sat at the end of Mike's hospital bed, staring at Richard, who had a nasty black eye and several bloody cuts. Richard scowled, which was rather painful if you take his serious injuries into consideration.

Mike groaned, reclaiming attention, as the icepack propped up on his head fell off.

Will Carter was unconscious at the other end of the hospital; Greg had to be taken to the Intensive Care unit; Mike and Richard would've been in there with him had it not been for Luna Lovegood pulling out her wand and attempting to fix some of the damage.

The four boys had already been visited by Hercule Poirot; a handful of concerned Cadets; and George and Abbie who had decided to take bets out of the result and had made a quick fortune.

"It .. HURTS," Mike tried to hold his head in his hands but epically failed, what with both his arms bandaged to his sides.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Richard rolled his eyes as he pointed to his own injuries.

"Yeah, but _you _broke _my _ribs."

Richard nodded casually, pleased with himself. This would go down in history, for sure.

"Mike ..." Sarah stared at Mike Walsh, a strange expression on her face, but was interrupted by the arrival of Luna Lovegood. " ... Hi, Luna."

Luna nodded gravely to Sarah, and turned to the two boys. Immediately Richard's mood lifted as Luna glanced at him.

"Luna," he said, smiling despite the major pain this caused. But she only had eyes for Mike Walsh.

"Does it hurt terribly, Mikey?"

Well, Richard fumed, turning away and catching Sarah's eye in the process. Who needed friends?

Sarah Craine frowned, concerned; before standing up, leaving Mike and sitting beside Richard.

"Oh, yeah," Mike was now saying, and if the other two didn't know him as well they would've thought he just wanted the attention. "It does."

"Oh no!" Luna sat down in Sarah's vacant space, at a loss of what else to say.

"I'll be _fine_," Mike raised an eyebrow at Luna, not hearing Richard's bitter muttering.

* * *

"You _missed _it?!" Abbie eyed Matt with disgust. Matt Cullen nodded, glowering darkly around him.

"Yes, I _missed it_. No thanks to _Poirot_."

George Clark frowned, deep in thought.

"What'd he want anyway?" he asked; irritating Abbie, who had wanted to gossip about the fight.

"Nothing," Matt said, surprised George was taking something seriously. "He was just talking weirdly, you know. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Who cares?" Abbie asked her two best friends, sighing. "The fact is, you missed the _best_ thing to _happen_ at CCF in, like, ten years!"

Matt nodded slowly.

"True, true ..."

* * *

Wow, Andrew Davies surveyed Calday, what was happening to everyone? Richard and Mike, for use of a better term, had broken up; George was taking things seriously for once; Matt was now taking an interest in current drama; Poirot was talking gangster; Sarah Craine had abandoned her usual friendship with Rachel and Vanessa to comfort Luna; and unknown to him, Alex Roberts was at this very moment eating his words and heading back. It was all quite odd ... Andrew didn't like it one bit.

* * *

"Benny," Ben #1 stared at the ground, his blond hair flopping down over his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for _what_?" Ben #2 asked testily, pushing his glasses further up his nose, ready to take anything Ben #1 said with a pinch of salt.

"For being, well, _me_." This quite clearly was more serious than Ben #2 suspected.

"It's quite alright," he said, inwardly wondering what the hell was going on.

Ben #1 didn't seem satisfied, but he looked at his friend with newfound respect.

"I mean," Ben #2 continued. "_I don't blame you, for being you,_" he sang, albeit being out of tune, "_But you can't blame me for _hay-ting _it _..."

Ben #1 scowled at him.


	14. Guess Who's Back, Back Again

"Excuse me?" Alex Roberts asked a Recruit, who stared at him. Not surprising, really, since he was covered in sweat and dirt from the long run back. "Have you seen a small yet slightly fat man with a black moustache, bowler hat, and a very strong French accent?"

The Recruit raised his eyebrows.

"You mean Hercule Poirot." It was not a question. Alex nodded, and, quickly heading in the direction the boy was pointing, ran headfirst into Vanessa and Rachel.

"Oh, hi girls."

"What happened to _you_?" Vanessa eyed him disgustedly. Rachel immediately did the same.

"Oh, you know. Long story." Alex wasn't liking the dissapproving glances they were giving him. "Where's Poirot?"

The two girls just looked at him.

"Man with black moustache ..." he explained slowly.

Rachel waved a hand behind her vaguely before walking away with Vanessa.

Alex scowled at their retreating backs. When _he _was a Cadet he wasn't that rude. Honestly, some people should just learn some _respect_ ...

* * *

"Hey, Pwazzo!" Abbie and George were taking this whole gangster thing to a new level. Needless to say, Hercule Poirot was going along with it. Obviously.

"Yo, wazzup?" he asked, with a gesture to put Eminem at shame.

"Someone's looking for you. They remind us vaguely of Alex Roberts, but ... nah."

Poirot glanced expertly round the room, which was empty.

"Bring 'im in ..."

* * *

"You are aware," Sarah Craine was attempting to keep the peace, "that if you hadn't said Mike's name none of this would've happened?"

She and Luna Lovegood were having a very heated argument outside the hospital. Passing staff were giving them concerned looks, as for one it's not every day you pass the blond girl most commonly found in the _Harry Potter _series; and at any rate neither of them looked very friendly. That was probably because they had been yelling at each other for the past half hour, though.

"How was I supposed to know?" Luna snapped, all serenity gone. "I was just gazing out of the window, thinking about Christopher, when I remembered that Mike Walsh was the one who told the whole school Christopher was going to propose to me! Which, as you can imagine, wasn't a very nice thought, now, was it?"

Sarah glowered.

"And to think," she replied, with heavy sarcasm, "Richard thought you were talking about moving on to Mike!"

"The idea," Luna agreed, not catching Sarah's sarcasm. "There's nothing wrong with Mike, though ..." she quickly said, in case anyone got the wrong end of the stick. Or, in her case, wand.

"Hmm, well." Sarah started edging back towards the doors, keen to make a swift exit back to her injured friends; but a thought struck her so suddenly she had to stop. "Wait ... who _have _you moved on to, then? If it's not Mike."

Luna blushed slightly.

"I haven't," she said. "Not even Cho Chang moved on that quickly from Cedric, and no offence to Cho, but she's not exactly very, er, _innocent_."

Sarah shook her head.

"I disagree," she frowned. "If I were Cho -" ("Heaven forbid," Luna muttered under her breath.) "- I think that after a year I would like to move on, and to someone like Harry as well ..."

Richard and Mike, who, via the open window behind Luna, could hear very clearly everything that had gone on; started sniggering as the two girls started discussing Harry Potter's physical features. A-_HEM_.

* * *

"I'M SO SORRY!" Alex Roberts wailed, kneeling at Poirot's feet. Abbie and George laughed, and Matt Cullen actually joined in.

"Yo, it's too late ter 'pologize, homie."

Alex started crying at that point, which, in the three Cadets' opinion, was slightly unnecessary yet hilarious.

"Yo," Poirot lifted Alex up by his grubby collar. "I ain't serious, ever heard of One Republic? 'sides, it ain't me you should be grovellin' to; you should be 'pologizing to Kenno's grave, y'all."

This revelation only made Alex cry harder.

"Good grief," Andrew Davies had entered the room, and he meant business. "Pull yourself together, Roberts. And Mr Poirot, did I not say if you continued talking like that then there'd be serious consequences?"

Hercule Poirot gave what he thought to be a sheepish grin.

"And don't smirk at me," Andrew snapped. "Now, Roberts, are you back for good?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"How spiffing." Andrew didn't think it was spiffing at all. On the contrary, as far as he was concerned, he had enough people to manage without an extra rebellious Sergeant. "Now, I expect you in uniform tomorrow, do you hear?"

Alex also gave what he hoped to be a sheepish grin.

"WILL ALL OF YOU STOP SMIRKING AT ME!"

* * *

Vanessa and Rachel crept very slowly along a corridor, stopping every few minutes in case they were being followed. Needless to say, they weren't.

"Come on," Rachel whispered, as they reached their destination. Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"Just get on with it," she sighed, wishing she had gone with Sarah Craine to visit Richard and Mike.

Rachel was already at Andrew Davies' office; she opened a side door and entered Poirot's temporary study without Vanessa. Vanessa Owen had already been instructed to act as a look out, in case the axe-wielding maniac who killed Christopher Kennedy appeared. What did Rachel think this was, an Agatha Christie novel? Vanessa was not enjoying her job one bit. She wondered whether Andrew had any food in here. Hmm.

"Oh em GEE!" Rachel was taking this very seriously indeed, as you can tell. "Look what I've found!"

"I can't," Vanessa rolled her eyes again. "You specifically told me not to go anywhere in case anyone came along."

"No, look!" Rachel came out of Poirot's room holding something small. "It's the same knife that was used to cut Polly's rope when we all went abseiling!"

"And how do you work that one out?" Vanessa asked drily.

Rachel Concannon tapped the side of her nose mysteriously.

"You shall see, _enfant_, in due course."

Vanessa, for the third time, rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

* * *

"AHA!" Ben #1 yelled, as the duo finally reached their destination. Michael Szuplewski's campsite. He wasn't in sight, which wasn't exactly surprising. The two Bens had had enough experience of Poirot's cases to know that criminals usually did a runner after a week or so. Not that Szuplewski was a criminal, of course.

"He's not _there_, Ben," Ben #2 stated unnecessarily. "But something _is_ ..."

Ben #1 followed his gaze.

"BENNY!" he squealed. "YOU'RE A GENIUS!"

"Well, you know, I do my best." Ben #2 tried not to smirk.

* * *

"What in Poirot's name is _that_?"

Ben #1 nudged the mangled heap with his foot.

"It looks like ... a dead rabbit." He couldn't help snickering at Ben #2's expression.

"How ghastly," Ben #2 murmured.

"_Vile_," Ben #1 agreed, smiling widely.

The two boys continued staring at the destroyed corpse of Voldemort for a moment before Ben #2 made a startling discovery.

"A note!"

Ben #1 picked it up tentatively.

"'_To whatever idiot is reading this,_'" he read aloud, ignoring Ben #2's protest about being called an idiot. "'_Alex Roberts has left me. He's gone back to Calday, and I shall be returning shortly, too. I will confess that no, it was not me who murdered the Cadets, but I do know who did. After hanging out on my own for a long while I realized the ending is the only place to start. Er, basically, I'm coming back, and I'm bringing with me the answer to this gruesome murder business. Signed, Mike Szuplewski._'"

"How cryptic," Ben #2 said after a while. "How very cryptic."

"You know what this means, Benny, don't you." Ben #1 shook his blond hair out of his eyes. Ben #2 stared at him.

"No, I don't!"

Ben #1 sighed.

"_TO THE BENMOBILE_!!"


	15. Watching, Waiting, Commiserating

"I've just received a fax from someone called Szuplewski." Sarah Craine waved a piece of paper in Poirot's face; not realizing that, well, there's only one Szuplewski relevant to this story.

"Did you say a fax?" Alex Roberts looked up from the shoes he was polishing with interest. "I've just gotten one of those myself, as a matter of fact."

Hercule Poirot frowned at both of the teenagers, gesturing for Alex to hand his over. He did so, and Poirot started comparing them.

The first - Sarah's - was exactly the same as the one Ben and Ben had received. Alex's, however, was a different story.

'_I'm never coming back, people. Yes, cry all you want, but nothing you can say can change that. I won't pretend I'm dead - that's _so _last year. I'm alive, and am probably moving to Australia tomorrow. Well, it was either that or Russia, and winter in Russia is like _hell. _Not that I'd know, I've never been there, but that's beside the point. Love y'all, Michael Szuplewski._'

"How interesting ..." Poirot murmured to himself. "How _very_ interesting."

"Sorry, but what's interesting?" Alex's shoes were forgotten, all thoughts of making them shine had vanished.

But Poirot had suddenly, without warning, become very emotional.

"Russia ..." he whispered, clutching the fax to his chest.

Alex rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Russia …" Poirot said again, in the same breathless voice, "… was where my beloved Vera Rosakoff lived."

Sarah raised her eyebrows at him.

"Anyway," Poirot snapped, making both of them jump. "Back to the faxes."

* * *

"… And if you shoot someone in a very particular way … like _that_ … see, that's how Lorraine Bhebhe died …"

Andrew Davies stopped dead in the middle of the empty corridor. He surely hadn't just heard – no, he couldn't have. Those voices were coming from inside his own personal office … no Cadet alive would dare go in there. No, he was obviously just hearing things.

Better be on the safe side though …

"GAHHH!" Vanessa screamed, as the door to Andrew's office opened with a bang behind her.

"AHA!" Andrew yelled, taking a L85-A2 Rifle off a shelf and pointing it at the girls quickly. Vanessa screamed again.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Rachel snapped, "pull yourself together."

Her confidence was short-lived, however, as Andrew pointed the rifle at her menacingly.

"Girls, do you want to DIE today?"

They both shook their heads slowly, as Andrew loaded the gun.

"Well then, I DEMAND to know what you were talking about!" Andrew was enjoying this very much. "AND MAKE IT SNAPPY!"

* * *

"I am _so _tired of hospitals, you know." Mike yawned widely and looked at Richard. Richard stared pointedly at the ceiling.

"We've been in here how long?" Mike continued, determined to get a response off his best friend. "I think it's high time we escaped."

Richard tried not to be interested, but unfortunately the prospect of an adventure greatly outweighed the possibility of staying in a hospital bed for the rest of his life.

"Alright," he reluctantly sat up, wincing with the pain this caused. "This needs careful planning."

* * *

"It all started when …" Vanessa stalled, unsure of what to say. Or, more precisely, what _not _to say.

Andrew aimed the rifle directly at her head.

"Speak now," he demanded, "or I swear on the name of Andrew Davies that I will shoot."

Vanessa stared at him for a long while.

"Er, you _are _Andrew Davies," she finally said, looking at him as though he were crazy.

"ENOUGH!" Andrew yelled, ignoring his mistake. "YOU'VE HAD YOUR CHANCE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE DISCUSSING, AND YOU MISSED IT. BELIEVE ME, GIRLS, YOU WILL BE VERY SORRY!"

* * *

Matt, George and Abbie crept down the corridor, heading towards the raised voices.

"Andrew Davies?" Matt hissed, and George confirmed this with a silent nod.

" ... KILL YOU ..."

The three Cadets halted in their tracks as Andrew kept on shouting.

"He didn't just say … what I think he did, did he?" Abbie gulped melodramatically.

George looked at her.

"And Dr Dre said ..." he began, nudging Matt to continue.

"Nothing you idiots," Matt rolled his eyes. "Dr Dre's _dead_. He's, uh, locked in my basement."

Abbie laughed and pushed them along the corridor towards Andrew's office.

* * *

"Is he _supposed_ to be muttering to himself?" Alex Roberts whispered to Sarah, as they both watched Poirot examine the two faxes.

She shrugged.

"I don't care, I'm just glad to be away from the hospital." Sarah narrowed her eyes automatically.

Alex nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I heard about that," he said. "Are the boys okay?"

"Mike and Richard are in pretty bad shape, Greg's still in Intensive Care ...and Will's fine." Sarah finished her sentence by rolling her eyes, showing Alex what she blatantly thought about the boys' situation.

"You don't like it much, do you." Alex smiled at her. It was not a question.

"AHA!" Poirot yelled, just as Sarah opened her mouth to reply. "OHO! WEYHEY!"

Both teenagers exchanged mocking glances.

"Boy!" Poirot motioned for Alex to look at a fax.

He examined it for a moment, not really sure what he was supposed to be looking for.

"Don't you see?" Poirot asked, pointing at the third line from the top. Alex vaguely wondered why he wasn't speaking gangster anymore; before focusing and reading where the Belgian detective was indicating.

"'_That's _so _last year_.'" he read aloud, raising his dark eyebrows. "What's your point?"

"Don't you think it's _odd_," Poirot snapped, irritated by the Sergeant's idiocy, "that a Cadet such as Szuplewski – who practically _invented_ the English language – would resort to using American-Cheerleader-Slang like that?"

Alex nodded slowly, and Sarah gave them both questioning stares.

* * *

"WILL!" Mike yelled, as Richard finished scrawling down The Plan.

Will Carter, from the other end of the hospital ward, looked up curiously.

"DO YOU WANT TO ESCAPE OR NOT?"

Will studied the two boys carefully.

"Yeah, okay then." he said finally, clambering out of his bed.

"GOOD!" Mike continued shouting, even as Will reached his side. "LET'S GO!"


	16. Do You Believe In Something Beautiful?

"I don't think she's going to be writing this story anymore," said Luna sadly.

**I don't think I'm going to be writing this story anymore. If any of you want to write a chapter, the ending, or a scene – go ahead and do it, give it to me, and I'll post it up here. You'll get all the credit.**

"But why," Mike wailed to Luna, "is she not writing it anymore?"

**I'm not writing this for various reasons:**

**Exams are approaching. I need to revise. Yes, me, the person who previously never opened a revision book, let alone REVISE from it. But I need to learn a whole module of Chemistry – I know nothing. Well, next to nothing – so I need to start right away. And to make matters worse, End of Years are arriving. Like, next week. Like, I-Haven't-Revised-As-We-Only-Got-Two-Weeks-Notice-So-I'm-Screwed next week.**

"So revise, then," said Luna. "It's not that hard."

**Yes it is.**

**My other fanfictions – including the 89 page unfinished NewGen one, which closely scrutinises James Potter II's rise to fame through the Triwizard Tournament (look it up. It's great. Don't mean to brag or anything, but ...) – are not getting written. At all. They're sitting round collecting dust whilst I ramble on about Poirot, murder, and the Death of Favourite Characters. Not to be disrespectful, or anything, but Hercule really isn't worth abandoning what I spent the entirety (no joke) of Year Nine working on, which still IS NOT FINISHED. I'm annoyed.**

"Same," said Mike, "I wasted months reading this story, and now you're saying it's going to be DESTROYED?"

**I never said that. I said that it's being put **_**aside **_**while I get on with my life. Who knows, in a few years I may have restarted it again.**

**Speaking of my life, it's crap. I'm not going to give you some depressing account of every single thing that's bad, because, hey, there are plenty of good things. They're just buried beneath the crap. Here's a short summary:**

**The aforementioned EXAMS**

**My family – one of whom, can I just point out, is going through a Hell of A Lot and therefore should be Left Alone so You're Comments Are Not Needed Right Now, and Why Don't You Do Something Normal Teenagers Do, Like Go On Facebook Instead Of Sniggering At Your Family Member's Struggle With Insanity. Struggle with insanity, as if. OKAY, I didn't write this to badmouth my family, so moving on...**

**Me. Don't ask, I won't tell you, there's nothing to tell, so just skip this and read the next bullet point. And no, if you 'think you know what this is about', you're sadly mistaken.**

"I know what this is about!" yelled Mike.

"You're sadly mistaken," said Luna, rightly referring to the above bullet point. Mike glared at her.

**And lots of other stuff I'll remember as soon as I post this and then be annoyed with myself for not posting it.**

**I really can't be bothered with this, anyway. It's destroying my Peace and Tranquillity (wtf).**

**Furthermore, I'm not even sure that I'm allowed to do this. Okay, most of the characters' personalities are based on FICTION. ONLY THE NAMES ARE REAL. LUNA LOVEGOOD AND HERCULE POIROT BELONG TO JKR AND AGATHA CHRISTIE RESPECTIVLEY. FALL OUT BOY BELONGS TO FALL OUT BOY. GREG, MIKE, ABBIE, GEORGE, MATT, SARAH AND EVERYONE BELONG TO GREG, MIKE, ABBIE, GEORGE, MATT, SARAH AND EVERYONE RESPECTIVELY. IF YOU SUE, I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN. THAT IS A PROMISE, NOT A THREAT. CCF BELONGS TO CCF.**

**BY THE WAY – NONE OF THE PLACES OR NAMES IN THIS ARE REAL. YEAH, EVERYBODY'S FAKE. I CHANGED EVERYBODY'S NAMES, THE LOCATION, AND EVERY LAST DETAIL. ER, YEAH. SO NONE OF THESE EXIST. THEY'RE JUST A HALLUCINATION YOUR IMAGINATION HAS CONJURED UP. THIS STORY DOESN'T EVEN EXIST. THIS **LIFE **DOESN'T EVEN EXIST. So don't sue. Please.**

**Like I've said before, if ya wanna write this, write it. I want you to. Poirot wants you to. Luna wants you to. EVERYBODY wants you to.**

**I love you all, without you people this story would never exist.**

**And, I'd just like to thank everybody who contributed to making this fanfiction come alive. Most thanks goes to Harry Potter, without whom I would not be here today.**

**Okay, I really am sad.**

**Over and out.**

"NO!" Andrew Davies yelled, bursting in on this chapter rather rudely. "It's never 'Over and Out'! It's just OVER or OUT!"

**Woah, chill Andrew. By the way, if you press Ctrl+B, you open a new document. How fucking cool.**

**Anyway, Out. Or is that over? I want a reply, so technically it would be 'over', although I'm probably not going to come back for a damn long while, so maybe it's 'out'. Whatever.**

**I'll end this on a Ted Leo &the Pharmacists quote. Interpret it how you like. I know what it means. By the way, if you're wondering, it's from the song 'Me and Mia'.**

_Do you believe in something beautiful? The get up and be it._


	17. Titleography

"I thought she wasn't writing this story anymore?" George looked between Abbie and Matt, confused.

"She's not," replied the latter. "This is the Title-ography."

"'_Title-ography_'," George repeated scornfully. "And what's _that _when it's at home?"

**My title-ography is like a discography, you know, but with this it's just going to list all the musical references used in this story, chapter by chapter. I owe credit to the artists, and just if you're interested you can listen to said music.**

**Some of it was what I was listening to when I wrote it, especially Fall Out Boy. Yeah, I listened to a lot of Fall Out Boy.**

"It's a pity Dom Hughes isn't here," said Abbie to the two boys, "don't you think? You know how much he loves FOB."

"Almost as much as Will loves CCF," George snickered knowingly. Matt smirked.

**Here we go, then.**

**A/N: The listed music in bold is referring to titles used for various chapters. Italics is stuff in the actual story. You'll know what I'm talking about once you read this. Eh, also various items used in this fanfic are listed here.**

**That being said:**

**MAIN TITLE: MISSIONARIES IN A FOREIGN FIELD (Viva La Vida – Coldplay)**

**CHAPTER 1:**

**Title: The Little Things Give You Away (Linkin Park)**

**Content: **_"Yeah, what you critics said would never happen.  
_  
_We dedicate this album to anybody people said couldn't make it. _

_To the fans that held us down till everybody came around._  
_  
Welcome, it's here."_ – **(Thriller -** **Fall Out Boy, featuring Jay-Z)**

**Book Christopher Kennedy Reads From: Peril at End House - Agatha Christie.**

**CHAPTER 2:**

**Title: Yes, This Fear's Got A Hold On Me (Death – White Lies)**

**CHAPTER 3:**

**Title: A Stitch Away From Making It (The (After)Life Of The Party – Fall Out Boy)**

**Book Christopher Kennedy Reads From: Non-Existent.**

**CHAPTER 4:**

**Title: Tied Together With A Smile (Taylor Swift)**

**CHAPTER 5:**

**Title: You're The Same Old Brand New You (Same Old Brand New You – a1)**

**Poirot's Infatuation of Countess Vera Rosakoff: True. See Agatha Christie books for reference.**

**Dom's Fall Out Boy T-Shirt: Based on mine.**

**Dom's iPod Music: Same as title.**

**Matt Being On TV: Also true. He was on Raven. I saw the episode.**

**CHAPTER 6:**

**Title: United States Versus Disbelief (You're Crashing But You're No Wave – Fall Out Boy)**

**CHAPTER 7:**

**Title: All The Things She Said (****t.A.T.u.)**

**Book Christopher Kennedy Refers To:**

" ... do you _really _think a detective such as Poirot would allow murder to happen under his very nose?"

"_Actually_," Christopher Kennedy had thankfully been released from Greg's grasp; now, his face was alight with pure enthusiasm "In _one_ Poirot novel, he –" **(Curtain: Poirot's Last Case – Agatha Christie)**

**CHAPTER 8:**

**Title: What You Said When You Left (Over You – Daughtry)**

**Poirot Book Dom Hughes 'Has Been Reading': Non-Existent. Loosely based, however around an idea in Peril at End House.**

**Poison Dom Hughes Is Killed With: Botulinum. See [http :// www . associatedcontent. com/ article /51597/a_list_of_deadly_poisons. Html] without the spaces.**

**CHAPTER 9:**

**Title: The Sweetest Dream Will Never Do (Don't Wanna Miss A Thing – Aerosmith)**

**French Dictionary Christopher Kennedy Destroys: No idea.**

**CHAPTER 10:**

**Title: A Footnote In Someone Else's Happiness ****(****Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On a Bad Bet – Fall Out Boy)**

**Alex Roberts' Converse Shoes: Property of Converse.**

**Alex Robert's Rabbit, Voldemort: Erm, non-existent. But said rabbit crops up in my French homework a lot.**

**CHAPTER 11:**

**Title: Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly (A rather good band. Also the name of a One Tree Hill episode, when it's Q's funeral (I think))**

**Ben and Ben's 2012 Film Reference: Actual movie.**

**A/N: Down – Jay Sean.**

**Matt, George, Abbie and Poirot's Little 'Tell me **_**why**_**" Rave: I Want It That Way – Backstreet Boys.**

**CHAPTER 12:**

**Title: Now I'll Never Have A Chance (Hear You Me – Jimmy Eat World)**

**CHAPTER 13:**

**Title: Sugar, We're Goin' Down (Fall Out Boy)**

**Ben #2's Little Speech: **"I mean," Ben #2 continued. "_I don't blame you, for being you_," he sung, "_but you can't blame me for _hay-ting _it_." **(A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me" – Fall Out Boy)**

**CHAPTER 14:**

**Title: Guess Who's Back, Back Again (Without me – Eminem)**

**The Cedric and Cho reference: Both characters ©JKR.**

**The 'Small Knife That Was Used To Cut Polly's Rope' That Was Found By Rachel In Andrew Davies' Study: A penknife.**

**CHAPTER 15:**

**Title: Watching, Waiting, Commiserating (All The Small Things – blink-182)**

**Alex Roberts' Shoes He Is Polishing: Belong to CCF.**

**L85-A2 Rifle Andrew Davies Points At Vanessa and Rachel: A real rifle used by the RAF. Found from the RAF's website. I hope you guys are proud of me, I know I am.**

**Abbie, George and Matt's Little Rave About Being Locked In Matt's Basement: ****(My Name Is ... – Eminem)**

* * *

**And so concludes my little Title-ography.**

**Investigate the songs, some are quite good, that's why I used them as titles. Obviously.**


	18. Fighting For A Cause

"I thought she was dead?" Will wrinkled his nose and turned to Greg and Richard; all three of whom were sitting in the library.

"Don't be so ridiculous," said Richard. "If she was dead, I think I would know."

**I'm not dead. But after this chapter THERE WILL BE NO MORE. Promise.**

**I just thought you should know:**

**I **_**am**_** writing another CCF story, based on Agatha Christie's 'And Then There Were None'. Best book ever, by the way. Read it. There's not going to be any Poirot or Luna or whatever, just ten selected cadets dying, one by one, with no one to save them. It's going to be a blast.**

**Abbie Hughes (yes, the one who's in this story) –**

"Hey," Greg said slowly, staring suspiciously at the author. "I thought none of these people were real."

**You thought right. Erm, okay then, the REAL person who's renamed as Abbie Hughes, asked me to ask you who your favourite character is.**

**Yeah, I'd like to know that actually.**

**So post a review, saying your favourite character/chapter/chapter title/moment/relationship/etc. Er, with the relationship part, obviously there's only Kenno&Luna. So make summat up. Really. Whatever you like.**

**Another quote to end the chapter with, from 'Me and Mia' by Ted Leo & The Pharmacists (again):**

'_Some are fighting for a cause ... but that don't make it yours.'_

**The whole song's great. The meaning's not that readily accepted in today's society, but hey, I think it really illustrates the issue.**

"What issue?" Will questioned. The boys shrugged.

**Look it up, dudes.**


End file.
